Newspaper Nostalgia: Unfolding Memories Under the Dinner Table
The bottle of soy sauce commonly used for dumplings, often likened to holy water for individuals living abroad, has the ability to alleviate feelings of homesickness when combined with noodles. © Jade Kayo MIKI
For a child, childhood is always full of fun and secrets under the dinner table. When we were getting ready to eat, there was a code word between my mother and me: “Let's lay out a newspaper.” In Taiwan, this is a common practice in small families for waste utilization. Newspapers can be used as placemats, folded into small trash cans (we always have animal bones and clam shells to put away, and shrimp crackers are also very convenient). I'm told that this habit was passed down by my father, whose specialty was chicken soup. The last time I drank it was when I was still in my mother's womb.
Whenever I heard the signal, I would climb up on the seat and wait for my meal. My mother's English Mastiff, Cupid, was an 80-plus-kilogram dog, but she was so gentle that she would often come over and rub against me. The brown fur under my felt was like stepping on waves. waves (I realized when I grew up this that feeling was called freedom).
Mostly, I listened with my ears as my mother rustled through the newspaper for a long time. She found two pieces of newspaper, spread them out on the dining table, picked up a heavy object to press down the corners, and then brought the rice bowls to me. She placed the chopsticks and utensils on the table, mixing the smell of printing ink with the nanastew and sauerkraut. As I grew up, I smelled and ate the food.
My mom was one of the few people in my family who was good at cooking, which made her a creative woman. She was probably referred to as the “talented woman” in Chinese poetry who mastered the qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting. But in my opinion, she was hardened by the reality of her life.
She comes from Hualien Yuli in eastern Taiwan and is the second oldest child in her family. In Taiwan, people avoid buying second-floor houses because the bathroom drains are typically connected to the back of the building. My mother herself disliked the notion of being born second. She grew up wearing her brother's clothes and, with the experience of living as a military dependent, she learned how to make a fire at age seven, mend shoes at age nine, and care for her frail older sister while also looking after her two younger sisters. During that time, the lives of impoverished people were largely influenced by the war era, involving activities like collecting lard to make soap from people's leftovers, and fishing and catching shrimp in the ditches to barter for food. Fortunately, she maintained an optimistic outlook, and life continued.
Although my mom's childhood was difficult, she never settled for less. She owned a black cheongsam and a pearl hair ornament, which she always wore to the weddings of her Japanese friends (a practice not common in Taiwan, as it is traditionally worn for funerals). She also enjoyed growing her hair long, applying flower oil to it, and meticulously combing it until it was clean and shiny, as she believed it was a way to show respect for herself.
Maybe she was accustomed to living modestly, but as our income stabilized, she became very generous towards her family. Despite that, my mother and I still enjoy indulging in those instantly satisfying starchy foods. Specifically, Gua bao, dumplings, and meat buns are my top three favorites. Ｗhen they are prepared deliciously, they offer a rich experience, showcasing the effort put into the intricate details.
These dishes all share a common feature - they require a certain level of convenience in their preparation. The primary ingredient is pork, often used for stir-frying with lard.
